


Eclipsed

by Alys_Brauer, miraeyeteeth



Series: Balancing Act [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Implied Twincest, M/M, Possession, Twincest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alys_Brauer/pseuds/Alys_Brauer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraeyeteeth/pseuds/miraeyeteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twin Golden Generals, Pitching and Kozmotis Black, are sent to guard the two fearling prisons built at opposite ends of the galaxy. It was supposed to be for the greater good; no one could have foreseen the consequences of the stars being eclipsed by Shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For the Greater Good

It was only logical. Having two separate prisons meant that the load would be less on the gatekeepers. It meant that there would be a lighter concentration of prisoners with less of a chance for corroboration between them. Two prison planets meant that if the worst should happen and there was a breach, then there was still a chance of the regular army beating back the Shadows. They would be weaker divided, so of course it was only logical that in order to give the army more time for defense, that the two prisons would be as far from each other as possible: on opposite ends of the galaxy. It all made sense, it was the safest, most reasonable course of action. There was no fighting that logic.

They still tried.

They had tried everything. They had pointed out that they were stronger together. When they fought side by side they were invincible! But they couldn’t argue enough in the face of that logic. After all, they had contributed to it a great deal; found the best suited planets, captured the Fearlings, Nightmare Men, and Dream Pirates, confined them. They had even helped to train the first guards. They were the heroes of the Golden Age, but that didn’t mean that they could refute their own logic. But protocol was protocol. Even for the greatest generals the Golden Age had ever seen. The Fearlings had been known to turn other guards against each other in the past, that was why the assignments were always, always, solo missions. Of course they understood that very well, and after the latest incident, it only made sense. They were the only ones strong enough, the only ones suited for the job.

They understood this, and it was okay, because it was all for the greater good.

\- - - - - - -

For the greater good.

The words became a mantra, something they had to believe in, the greater good. If they didn’t believe in it, then what was the point?

For centuries they had stood alone, at the gates of Shadows’ prison; watching, alert, and all for the greater good. Sometimes, it was hard to remember what that good was, why they had agreed to this. It was hard to believe in the greater good when the memory of Seraphina’s face came to him. Her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears as she tried to be strong, as ‘the greater good’ took her family from her. It was hard to have faith in that undefined ‘good’ when he ached so much from loneliness, from the strain of being so far from his twin, unable to pick out his thoughts, unable to see him, hold him…hold them. What was this greater good that he had fought so hard and long to protect? That had abandoned him here at the edge of-

Kozmotis shifted his weight, a frown creasing his brow. The general closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, centering himself, and searching for Pitchiner. The link was still there, a tenuous, fragile thing stretched nearly to the breaking point by distance, but it was there. Faintly, he thought he felt an answering hum across the distance; Pitchiner reaching for him. Kozmotis smiled, relaxing his tense muscles for a moment. He swore that sometimes that bond with his brother was the only thing keeping him sane. The greater good was in staying strong, and keeping people safe. Seraphina may be missing her papas, but those tears she had not shed in front of them represented a hundred, a thousand smiles that she would have, unplagued by the darkness that was confined in front of them.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Kozmotis said softly, one hand tightening on his sword, the other on the locket that bore the images of the two most important people in the world to him. “I’m not that easy to sway.” The Shadows, those dark thoughts, the memories of his daughter, the pain of his missing other half, the Shadows were the ones seeding those in his mind. He had to stay strong, he wouldn’t let them corrupt him. Reflexively, he reached for the link to his brother again. Pitchiner was remaining strong, even separated they could be strong toge-

Something was wrong. The bond didn’t catch, it didn’t feel like it normally did. Even stretched through the freezing void of space, their connection had always been there, a glittering, hair-thin thread of warm golden light in Kozmotis’ mind’s eye. But now it felt wrong, greasy and copper-coloured. He couldn’t get a proper hold of it.

A sudden wave of gut-wrenching distress crashed into him through the connection.

_Koz! Sera! No oh stars no this can’t be real please no it’s a trick has to be a trick KOZ KOZ PLEASE ANSWER ME_

_Pitch! Pitchiner! I’m right here!_  Kozmotis tried to scream back, but there was no sense of relief through the connection, no sense that his brother was aware of him at all. It was as if their connection had somehow become one way, as though Pitchiner was isolated somehow and even as he tried to claw for the bond, it darkened in his mind, shivering and thinning further.

An image struck him like a bolt of lightning, searing through his mind with such intensity that his knees buckled and it was a fight just to remain standing. A door. A door like the one that Kozmotis stood outside, but this one had a crescent moon emblazoned on the front instead of a sunburst. And from behind the door there were screams, cries for help, for mercy, or even just for death, anything to make it all stop please just make it stop. They were in his and Seraphina’s voices.

Rage and desperation crashed through Pitchiner, through Kozmotis, and a step was taken closer to the door before the image faded, the connection snapping abruptly.

“No.” Kozmotis gasped, clutching his head. “Stars, Pitch, no!”

Still reeling from the force of the vision, Kozmotis staggered backwards until he came up against his own doorway, and the roiling, hissing, spine-chilling whispers of the prisoners brought him fully back into his own mind. He shoved away from the metal like it had burned him and stood there for a moment, panting and shaking.

No no no no that could not have been real; that couldn’t have really happened. It had to just be another fearling trick, something to fool him into abandoning his post. Pitchiner was fine, he had to be, there wasn’t anything to worry about…

But when he reached for their bond, it was in the same sickly state as before, maybe worse. He couldn’t feel anything  aside from a gnawing sense of unease that he was pretty sure he was making all on his own.

The sensible, duty-bound part of him didn’t even have time to finish the argument that he was supposed to stay here and watch the prison before Kozmotis had dashed for his shuttle.

He did, however, manage to rein in the instinct that was screaming at him to head straight to where Pitchiner was. No, Kozmotis needed someone to temporarily take over for him at the prison, and if…Kozmotis bit his lip. He had to be realistic about this. If the worst did or was happening at the other end of the galaxy, he would need backup.

So he had gone  to the nearest military outpost first. It was further away than he would have liked; the military had been considerably downgraded during the centuries of peace that had been safeguarded by him and his brother. Having the one of the famous Golden Generals barge into the outpost had the same effect as kicking a hornet’s nest. There was a desperate scramble to fall into line and a flurry of frantic questions. What was he doing here? Was the prison secure? Was the galaxy in danger?

Kozmotis gathered his composure and straightened his spine, draping the nearly-forgotten air of authority around himself like a cloak. “The prison I guard is secure, but I need the soldier here with the strongest resolve to man the door for me temporarily. General Pitchiner Black is in trouble and everyone else is coming with me to aid him.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then one of the men spoke up. “Sir, the… General Black’s prison is across the galaxy, and we haven’t heard any news of trouble. The fearlings have been known to implant suggestions and-”

Kozmotis’ eyes narrowed. “Do not question me, soldier. This is a matter of life and death, and I know what I felt,” he lifted his head to address the crowd again. “I need to speak with whoever is in charge of communications. Everyone else, gear up! We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

A woman with plaited black hair came forward as the others scattered to prepare. “Communications Officer Rialyn, sir. You want me to get the word out?”

Kozmotis shoved down the surge of emotion that came with the sight of seeing someone who even vaguely resembled Seraphina. (She had to have been an adult by now. He had missed watching her grow up.) He nodded curtly. “Yes. I need you to inform the Lunanoffs of our excursion. I also need you to warn them that we may be dealing with a security breach.”

Officer Rialyn’s eyes widened. “You mean, the prisoners-”

“It’s a possibility. They need to be prepared for the worst, if it comes to that. Don’t spread the word around to the soldiers yet, the last thing I need is panic.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered steadily, and with a salute, moved off to send the missive.

\- - - - - - -

He stood on the deck of the ship, almost completely unaware of his surroundings. Reflex and habit had him standing at ease. His hands clasped behind his back, legs shoulder width apart, his balance shifting instinctively with the movement of the ship. He looked relaxed, he was anything but. Every sense was strained toward their destination. They were close, not yet in sight, but he could feel it. He could feel Pitchiner getting closer and closer. The closer he got to his twin however, the more ill he felt.

Their bond, once a shining beacon, a source of immense strength, was fading. He could still feel it, but instead of getting stronger as it should as the distance between them closed, it was getting weaker.  _Pitch! Pitchiner! Please! Please. Please. Please._ He had been screaming for him the entire trip across the galaxy, had been trying to get him to respond, something! Anything!

Silence.

It was absolute, there was nothing. Those last desperate thoughts were the last he had heard. Now, the connection was dark, sick, and poisonous. What had happened? What had the shadows done?

Reaching still, knowing it was futile, Kozmotis persevered. He followed that fading, flickering link, though it made him almost physically ill to touch it. The glowing anchor was gone, it was now a sickly, greasy thing, dark and corrupted.  _Please. Please be all right. I’m almost there. Wait for me Pitchiner. Please…just wait. Wait for me, Pitch._

He didn’t know if his brother could hear him, but it was the only thing that he had left to cling to. It didn’t matter how tenuous that hold was, he wasn’t going to let go.

“General, sir,” the captain of the ship Kozmotis had practically commandeered strode purposefully toward him, saluting smartly as he came up to his side.

Kozmotis visibly came by to himself, taking a deep breath, and turning to look directly at the man. “Yes captain? How is our course? How soon will we arrive?”

“Soon sir,” the man responded. His unease was almost palpable, most of the crew seemed to either be in awe of Kozmotis, or intimidated by him. None of that seemed to faze the general though, he knew his reputation, Pitch’s reputation as well. They were the Golden Generals, war heroes charged with keeping the galaxy safe. Yet here he was, speeding across the galaxy in an attempt to stop the Shadows before they could take his other half from him. “Sir, the crew was wondering if…you wanted to rest.” The captain spoke again, causing Kozmotis to glance over, trying to situate himself in the here and now.

For the past few days, every inch of his being had been focused on Pitchiner, trying to establish contact with him. Now this man, this Captain, was trying to take his attention away. Didn’t he understand? The connection was fading! Pitchiner needed him, yet couldn’t hear him. “I’m fine,” Kozmotis responded evenly, his voice rough. “I will-”

Darkness. 

Emptiness.

Suddenly it was if the world had ceased to exist. He was falling. But no. No he couldn’t be. There was a strange, burning sensation that tore through him. It felt like darkness was crawling inside him. He was choking. He was being smothered. He was drowning. He was dying.

Then nothing. Complete emptiness.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

It was deafening. 

“Pitch?” Unthinkingly, he reached for the bond with his twin. Fading or dark, he didn’t care, he needed to feel the ground beneath his feet again.

But it was not there.

There was nothing.

Just.

Silence.

"No." The word was hardly more than a whisper. It was impossible. Nothing. Nothing could break that bond. Not darkness. Not distance. Not anything! "No." The denial was louder this time. Kozmotis’ entire body was trembling, though he did his best to conceal it.

"G-General?" The captain of the ship watched in horror as the Golden General, Kozmotis Black, unravelled before his eyes. There had been a moment of utter stillness. It was almost as if he had ceased to exist. Then he had stumbled. The ship had not moved, not altered course in the slightest, and the general who had looked so at ease on the deck, had stumbled.

Kozmotis hunched over the rail of the deck, a hand pressed desperately to his chest. He couldn’t breathe. But he was breathing.He was blind. But he could see. Shock rocked through him as he stood there. His chest felt too tight. Yet he was utterly empty. He could see it with his mind’s eye. That link, that link that had always been there was shattered.

And so was he.

They had taken away his home, his family, his life, and now, now they had taken the last thing he had that made life worth living.

“General Black? Sir?” The captain repeated, trepidation in his voice.

“He’s gone…” Kozmotis breathed, feeling a tremor run through him. He gritted his teeth, fisted his hands, and straightened his back. Anger rose in the place of devastation. It was swiftly followed by calm and logic. An eerie calm that still kept his anger burning. He had to keep it together. He was smarter than this, and as much as he wanted to scream and rage and tear and shred and d _estroy t_ he things that had taken everything from him, he had to approach this sensibly. “General Black has… fallen in the line of duty. The prison has been breached. All troops are to prepare for battle, and brace themselves for the worst. There’s no telling what we might encounter when we arrive. Let everyone know. Now!” he barked out.

“Y-yes, sir!”

Only when the captain hurried away and the ship began to roil with frantic activity did Kozmotis allow himself to slump against the rail again and bury his face in his hands. “Pitch… I’m so sorry,” his voice was hollow, shaking as he fought against the burning tears. “If only I had been stronger. If only I had been faster.” Raising his head, Kozmotis looked out at the stars, and the quickly approaching planet. “Don’t worry brother. You will be avenged.” He promised, his eyes hardening.


	2. Chapter 2

He stood before the gates of the prison. His hand grasped the hilt of his sword as he positioned himself before the deepest shadows, his eyes wary. The rest of the soldiers stood in formation behind him; he’d told them he would be the first to approach the area.  He had to be the first. There was no way he was going to let someone else deal with this; this was his personal battle.

Despite Kozmotis’ warning, the knowledge that Pitchiner had fallen, no one had expected what lay before them. The door to the prison was already open,  and not just a crack.They had been pushed wide, but there was no evidence of any of the prisoners escaping. The world was desolate, which  _had_  been expected, but it was too calm. Too quiet.

Too empty.

Slowly, Kozmotis moved toward the gate. Each step was a deliberate placement of his foot. The gravel beneath his feet crunched, the sharp stones almost seemed to pushing up through the thick sole of his boots. All his senses were hyper aware. The dead air of the desolate planet seemed to cling to his skin as he advanced. His eyes darted around the bare landscape, alert for any hint of movement. Muscles tensed, ready for the slightest indication that an enemy was hiding nearby. A single sound. A shifting shadow. Anything.

His caution was unnecessary.

Out of the darkness at the gates, a shape materialized. Its presence was only distinguishable by the lack of anything around it. It seemed to exist within a void that absorbed all light and gave back only an abyss. It was nearly formless, the only distinction was between it and the natural darkness almost like a corrupted halo behind it.

Fear. It was nameless, formless, but Kozmotis felt it rolling out toward him. By now it was second nature to block it out, it didn’t touch him, couldn’t touch him. There was nothing left for him to fear. His eyes hardened further, if this was the best that this thing could throw at him, then it would not have long to regret what it had dared to do to his twin.

Clenching his jaw, Kozmotis raised his sword into a defensive stance, ready to retaliate. This was no different than any battle fought before, with one important exception: he was here for revenge. They had been taught to never let their emotions get the better of them in a fight with the Shadows, that it was so far beyond dangerous it was practically suicidal. That seemed unimportant now. Everything seemed unimportant now except for the angry desolation that burned in him. Kozmotis’ reason had fled him back on the ship, as soon as the world had fallen out from under him and he had vowed vengeance. Now he hung on to his composure by only a very thin thread.

The thing slid closer. As it left the gateway and crossed the desolation toward him, Kozmotis could swear he saw it detach itself from the shadows. Strings of blackness oozed and undulated around the form, weaving grotesquely. Shifting his weight, Kozmotis adjusted his hold on his blade, ready for whatever the thing could throw at him.

He watched it closely, and felt a slight unease stirring. It didn’t  _move_  like a person should. And not like any fearlings  he had seen either - they were usually fluid and smooth in their motions. This… this  _thing_  had now taken on a vaguely humanoid shape, but as  it moved, it seemed to twitch and jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. No part of it remained still for even a moment and the movements seemed largely disconnected with each other.  One leg would swing forwards in a mockery of an army-style march, and the next step would have it slowly drag its foot off of the ground as though it was mired in thick, clinging mud. A clawed  hand shot out and then raked back through the air, as if trying to drag it forwards.  Swirling, flickering darkness surrounded it, and the overall shape of the thing seemed to  warp and shift and waver, like it was not entirely there. The head of the creature was bowed, though it twitched from side to side  as though it was looking for something, or trying to shake off fleas.

The unnaturalness of the thing’s motion only enhanced the gut-wrenching feeling of wrongness, of dread and terror and decay. The aura took Kozmotis like a punch to the stomach, driving into his already shattered reserves of composure. It felt like nothing in the universe would ever be right again. That darkness and void and f _ear oh sweet sweet fear would cover everything everything would be theirs all theirs._

Kozmotis snapped back to his own mind and realized with a sinking sense of horror that the connection between him and his twin wasn’t just gone, it was a gaping hole. It had become a void that was filled with roiling blackness and a terrible, unrelenting hunger. That was when the creature’s head snapped up to fix him with burning eyes, and Kozmotis caught sight of the thing’s features, marred though they were with shadow. “Pitchiner?” he gasped.

The thing’s face split open in a gash of a smile. “ _No_ ,” it hissed in a million different voices. “ _We are not you. You are not ussss._ " The thing that had taken his brother’s body spoke in a dissonant cacophony of sibilant voices. Its head jerked back and forth nauseatingly, its glowing sulphurous eyes fixed on Kozmotis, only on him. " _We are…the Pitch Black…behind the starssss._ ”

Kozmotis’ hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. He could feel it, the thing was bending its will toward him. Anger. Fear. Despair. The emotions rolled over him, looking for chinks in his resolve, any weakness to exploit. But he wouldn’t give in, he couldn’t give in.

“ _You could be_.” It spoke again, causing Kozmotis to shudder, the sound grating against him, setting him even further on edge. “ _Come. Join ussss. Join him. He callsssss, callsss for you. The Light. The General. Hiss brother. Hiss…love._ " It cocked its head at an unnatural angle, those eyes still pinned on Kozmotis, holding him immobile with horror. " _He criessss._ " Another parody of a grin split its face. A familiar face. Pitchiner’s face.

No. No! This thing wasn’t Pitchiner. No spark of his brother remained in this creature. The black void where their bond had once stood unbreakable was testament to that. It only looked like him, nothing more. The taunts were lies, attempts to deceive him, to weaken him. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let that happen.

They had always been told that anger was a weakness, but Kozmotis had stopped caring about what they had ‘always been told’, none of that mattered now. He donned his anger like it was armour, wrapping it around himself. He’d heard enough. Without a sound, Kozmotis shifted his stance, hefted his blade, and closed.

The metal of his blade gleamed brighter than the faint light from the distant stars could account for. There was a reason that Kozmotis and Pitchiner had been called the Golden Generals; there was a reason that they had been heralded as heroes; there was a reason they had been chosen to guard the gates; and Kozmotis was going to remind this thing why that was.

The thing - not Pitch, it wasn’t Pitchiner - tried to jerk away, but Kozmotis didn’t let him. His blade met flesh - could he even call it flesh? It was shadow, not Pitchiner, not his brother - the light along its edge cutting through the blackness. Cleaving it cleanly, though it met with more resistance that Kozmotis had come to expect from Fearlings.

There was hiss of pain. It could feel pain. This revelation was more rewarding than Kozmotis would ever admit. He snarled as his grip shifted minutely. His wrists flexed as he altered the arc of the blade. Pulling it back, he moved smoothly into the next movement, coming from the opposite direction to hit it again. It would know more pain, he would make it feel the agony that now encompassed him.

And then it would die.

Despite the gaping hole in his very soul, this was one thing he knew how to do: fight the darkness. His training took over. His movements, muscle memory now, moved him swiftly from one attack to another, giving the Shadows no chance to counter. The jerky movements of the shadow being were jarring in comparison to Kozmotis’ practiced and concentrated attacks, his fluid movements effortless. Pitchiner would have been able to keep up with him. Pitchiner would have been able to counter his strike with a well practiced parry. Pitchiner would have danced this battle with him, a gleam in his eyes as their movements flowed together. They knew each other too well, there would have been no upper hand. No, what he was facing was not Pitchiner. There was nothing left of Pitchiner. The thing had no chance to do anything but try to wrench out of the path of the blade. Kozmotis didn’t let it. He wouldn’t let this abomination keep his brother’s face!

He advanced, and it retreated. The collection of fearlings backing away from the singing silver. The body beneath the darkness twitched and dodged bending unnaturally. Its arms flailed through its own shadow, fingers working for something not there.

Triumph swelled through him. Kozmotis had arrived too late, but still just in time. This horrific possession was incomplete, the things crawling through his brother had yet to figure out any way to retaliate. The body was used to physical offensives, but the shadows relied on mental onslaughts to drive their prey to insanity. They could not adapt to tangibility quickly enough. All he had to do. He swallowed. All he had to do…was sever the head. Pitchiner’s head. His brother’s head.

Kozmotis raised his sword to charge, crouching to kick off, but the thing hunched over, hands disappearing into hair blacker than it ever should have been. He couldn’t help but pause. Fingers smudged gray pulled and ripped as a screeching cacophony erupted from the writhing mass. He cringed from the sound, forced to step back.

It looked up again, eyes wide and glowing, head tilting to the side in that same disjointed manner. Then, it stood. It straightened its back, hands at its sides, fingers still reaching for the darkness as it swirled up its limbs. The shrieking dulled and folded in on itself, and the creature stepped forwards. Not slid or skittered, but stepped like a man.

Arms lifted and twitched like it was in pain before folding behind it’s back. Spine straight, head curiously to the side still, it’s face split in a jagged grin to speak.

“Kozzzzmotissss.”

Only, it wasn’t the death rattle of a thousand souls. No, this time they condensed, they quietened themselves and Kozmotis broke into a cold sweat.

It was the voice of his brother.

Pitchiner’s voice dripping with decay.

Kozmotis blanched, his sword falling just an inch. And that dip was all it needed.

The pose of the creature broke immediately as if unable to hold such a human form any longer and the beast lunged at him, arms long and jointed grotesquely, fingers barbed claws. Kozmotis had no time to parry or defend himself, his shock dulling his reaction time. All he could do was fall into a rolling dodge, trying to scramble away.

Kozmotis desperately clawed for his composure, for the calm, resolved center that he fell into while fighting. _Not Pitch,_ he told himself, I _t’s not Pitchiner. It’s not and it’s using it against you don’t let them win. You can’t let them win_  - but his own attempts at reassurance were cut short as sharp fingers hooked under the plates over his shoulder, wrenching him back towards the creature.

Twisting to the side, he tried to yank his armor free of the grip. He swung his sword blindly with one hand, not able to see the thing behind him. He might not be able to see it, but he could feel the looming presence at his back. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, every cell of his body shrieking its protest against the proximity to such wrongness. The strike must have worked. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling forwards, the shrill screech of protesting metal signalling that his armor had been ripped clean from his shoulder.

Spinning around into a kneel, Kozmotis faced his enemy once more, ragged puffs of breath forcing his almost-fear back into check. It wasn’t fear. He was fearless. This was merely surprise. Bringing a hand to his shoulder he tried to feel for damage. Fortunately it seemed than any damage had been done only his armor and not himself. His adrenaline pounded so thickly in his veins that he idly wondered if he’d even feel any pain any way right now.

The Not-Pitch thing was grinning, a dripping, vicious expression. Its eyes were fixed upon the stolen piece of metal, rolling it in its hands. Shadowy tendrils skittered over the bright designs inlaid into its once smooth surface. Each had been given to him, to them, a badge of honour, symbols of their deeds. Its very touch polluted the memories ingrained into the symbols, but none of that mattered. All that mattered now was that its distraction gave Kozmotis time to stand and regroup. What exactly was it doing?

He was about to shout for its attention and to put it out of its misery once and for all, when the plated metal blinked out of existence within its hands leaving behind nothing but shadow. A rasping rattle sounded from the pit of its mouth and Kozmotis watched, horrified with himself and his inaction.

His horror turned near physical and his stomach dropped to his toes when that thing, that disgusting parody of his other half, held out one arm, it’s hand disappearing into opaque blackness. The gloom gathered to its hand as the perpetual smile fell away.

Voices whispered and cried their condemnation, white noise filling the air and Kozmotis knew that he must act now or perish.

With a shout, he leapt, sword first, into the swirling shadows to kill his former brother. He swung his gleaming blade precisely, years of training and experience honing his skill to near flawlessness, even as his mind grew messy. He voiced his anguish using it to fuel his determination, his task, his last goodbye.

But metal clashed against metal. Shrill screaming erupted in the darkness and the shadows fell away revealing what had stopped his blade.

Pitchiner - no not Pitchiner! It couldn’t possibly be Pitchiner - had shadows pooling at his feet, his uniform stained the darkest colour of ink, his skin smeared coal black. In his hands, his scythe. His star silver scythe shining through the darkness, knocking the shadows of his very being into submission at his feet.

The curved blade of the white metal blocking Kozmotis’ sword, their edges grinding against each other. Kozmotis’ eyes wide, matched perfectly by the abomination that stole his Pitch’s face. The thing looked…shocked.

A whine threaded out through its gash of a mouth and it’s blazing eyes dulled as it looked down and away from Kozmotis. Kozmotis followed the gaze, momentarily stunned, their weapons still interlocked. Its hands that gripped the shaft of the bright scythe were smoking, the dark gray skin looking lighter from the contact alone.

For an instant, those hands looked almost human, a stinging reminder of the man who had been smothered by the shadows. Then the thing hissed and the darkness gathered around it once more, swirling down the creature’s arms and pouring over the star silver like ink and blood. And the glow of the weapon, designed to always keep the darkness at bay, dimmed, flickered.

 _Impossible._ Kozmotis thought, frozen for a moment in shock. Star silver was supposed to be flawless, stalwart, incorruptible.  _Like the Golden Generals?_  A derisive voice in his mind asked. Kozmotis gritted his teeth and broke away from Pitch just as the darkness creeping up the scythe’s blade started to lap at his own sword.

He hefted his blade to slay the creature before it could wrest any more good from the world, but as he moved to step forward, a terrible, soundless  _shriek_ ripped through the area. It was not something that was heard by the ears, but sensed instead by the spirit. It was the sensation of tearing, of sudden gaping emptiness where there should have been substance, of the laws of nature being warped beyond the breaking point and it ripped through Kozmotis like a lightning strike. And just as suddenly as it started, it was over and Kozmotis was left gasping and swallowing against the bile rising in the back of his throat.

“ _It… looks better now, don’t you think_?” the creature asked in a sickening, disjointed parody of Pitchiner’s voice, stroking a hand along the blade of the now-tarnished scythe. The metal gleamed slickly in the dim lighting, but the reflections that danced over its surface were not that of the surroundings. Instead, terrible, grisly images of torment, of terror and suffering and loss flitted and twisted along the metal, soundless screams and hopeless, despairing tears. The faces of the people in the reflections were familiar, family and friends and  _oh stars, Seraphina…_

Kozmotis swallowed thickly and tore his gaze away, feeling sick to his stomach. He could not afford to falter now, no matter what happened. He would prevail, he would protect the Golden Age from evil, he would fulfill his obligation, the duty of everyone in the Golden Army. He had to.

The screaming continued in his mind, driving his thoughts to distraction. Kozmotis tried to focus, tried to block out the noises. It had once been as easy as breathing, to stop the influence of Fearlings in his mind. But the screams continued, in fact, they grew louder. It was only then that Kozmotis realized the sounds weren’t just a mental effect of the creature’s presence. He spared a quick glance behind him. He hadn’t come alone. This wasn’t just a battle between him and the thing pretending to be his brother. The rest of the soldiers he had arrived with were being besieged by amorphous shadowy monstrosities; a desperate battle being fought between the forces of light and darkness. He was only facing one aspect of that darkness, but he had no attention to spare for his comrades.

He quickly snapped his gaze back to the creature wearing his brother’s face, only to discover it was…

Gone. Vanished into the darkness like a ghost. Kozmotis gritted his teeth and stood ready, all senses on high alert. The thing wasn’t far, he could still feel that aching void of connection with his twin completely undiminished by distance.

The sudden sensation of the hair on the back of his neck prickling afforded him only barely enough warning to whirl around and bring his sword up to parry the sweep of his quarry’s scythe. The star silver blazed with light as it clashed with the corrupted metal, as if protesting the change in its counterpart as violently as Kozmotis wanted to. He stared into the gash of a grin across the monster’s face and snarled back in defiance. He pressed forwards, striking mercilessly at the creature.

The thing was faster now though, more sure of itself. With every passing second, the thing seemed to adopt more of Pitchiner’s style, more of his skill. The flourishes, the strikes and the blocks, they all echoed his twin perfectly and that pained Kozmotis as much as the screaming of his muscles as he met the creature blow for blow.

The twins had been evenly matched the last time they had sparred all those years ago. It seemed to be the case now as well.

Only now, it wasn’t Pitchiner. And it had other tricks up its sleeve. The thing took full advantage of the abilities it seemed to be picking up as it went along, blinking in and out of the shadows; Kozmotis was barely able to keep track of it. As the battle progressed, his chest heaved with exertion, sweat dripped down his back under his armor, and the thing didn’t seem to be winded at all. Soon Kozmotis was struggling to keep up with the blows being rained down upon him, fighting just to parry the glittering, razor-sharp scythe, trying to keep it at bay instead of pressing his advantage.

Everything went wrong when the thing feinted, flickering into tangibility once more, scythe raised. Kozmotis brought his sword up to intercept the swing. Instead, it drove the butt of its scythe into Kozmotis’ middle, driving the air from his lungs and knocking him backwards, his mind reeling.  He stumbled and would have recovered but for the darkness that suddenly roiled around his ankles and pulled him backwards to the ground with a crash. Kozmotis grunted and tried to roll back to his feet, only to find that his limbs had been secured by shadowy bonds, the shining sword still in his hand rendered useless by lack of leverage with with to swing it. He wrenched desperately against the darkness even as the thing stepped up to his prone form.

The creature grinned savagely and raised the scythe over its head to deliver the finishing blow

Kozmotis couldn’t move, held down by chittering shadows. He could only watch helplessly as the  dark reflection of his twin brought his demise. Defiant to the end, he met the creature’s sulfurous eyes with his own golden ones, wishing that he could have at least said goodbye to his other half. “I’m sorry, Pitchiner…” he whispered as the blade swung down.


	3. Chapter 3

Kozmotis refused to look away. If he was going to die, if it was going to be at Pitchiner’s hand, he would watch the blade until it pierced his flesh and darkness consumed him. He knew that the thing before him wasn’t his twin, there was nothing left of his brother inside the shadowy monster, no matter what it was trying to make him believe. Pitchiner was gone, the tarnished star silver was proof of that. “Goodbye,” he whispered, the scythe arching down to take his head.

Time seemed to slow down. Instead of reflecting back like, the blade of his brother’s weapon now absorbed it. Kozmotis could see it coming, watched the darkness in his brother’s eyes glare balefully down at him and- The weapon halted, mere inches from his throat. Muscle tendons tensed on shadow smudged hands, clenching the staff of the scythe, but it didn’t fall.  For an instant, the monster seemed to falter.

A mere moment, that scant second of hesitation  gave the the army ranged behind the Blacks all the opportunity they needed. A sudden flash of silver cut between them, embedding itself in the creature’s stomach. With a hiss the shadows recoiled, taking a few wavering steps back. Sulphurous eyes rose from the fallen general to glare balefully at the soldiers that had surrounded them.

More spears flew, knocking it backward, driving it to the ground where it was promptly kept by a number of spears placed strategically. Soldiers surged forward, pulling Kozmotis back, carrying him out of the creatures range.

And as the creature lay pinned on the ground, star silver spears driven through the thing’s wrists and abdomen, a curious thing happened. The shadows around it, once writhing living things that relentlessly assaulted the Golden Army, suddenly stilled. The nightmare creature ignored the captain who was stepping up to it, raising a shining blade to behead the thing. Instead, it lifted its head, sulphurous yellow eyes seeking something or someone in the crowd. It seemed to find it when its gaze landed on Kozmotis, who was on his feet now, clutching his sword and staring grimly at the monster.

If it had given him a pleading look, an entreaty for rescue, Kozmotis would have known that the creature was trying to take advantage of its tenuous connection to his brother, trying to manipulate him. Instead though, an expression of something approaching sorrow played over the shadowy visage, and then the thing closed its eyes and tilted its head back, exposing its throat.

Something about that sight made something in Kozmotis snap. That had been  _Pitchiner_. The creature had faltered in killing him because Pitchiner _was still in there_. His brother was still alive, still there somewhere, and he had just said goodbye.

No.

He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d already thought that he lost Pitchiner once, felt that horrible gaping emptiness of losing his other half. He couldn’t watch as it happened again in front of his eyes.

And before he really was aware of what he was doing, he had surged through the crowd, rammed into the would-be executioner, knocked him aside and torn out the spears pinning Pitchiner to the floor.

The creature let out a piercing, nails-on-a-chalkboard shriek as it was freed, but Kozmotis paid it no heed, seizing it, dragging it upright, and laying his sword across its throat. “No funny business,” he growled lowly. He gripped it tightly, ignoring the way his skin crawled at the sensation of the shadows against his flesh. The thing was weakened now, maybe dying, but he’d seen what it had done during the battle and there was no sense in taking needless risks.

Except for the one where he decided he was going to rescue what was one of the most dangerous things in the universe from its disposal at the hands of the Golden Army.

The rest of the group was starting to overcome the shock by now, moving to stop him. Kozmotis gritted his teeth, lowered his shoulder, and charged.

Kozmotis had very little to do during his vigil but combat exercises, and most of the battle-torn army was still taken aback by his sudden betraya- sudden decision. He jinked away from a corporal who attempted to tackle him, bowled over a sergeant who’d stepped in his path, and ignored a lieutenant’s screamed order for him to stop. They couldn’t see it, but he was doing the right thing, he could fix this! He would bring Pitchiner back and everything, everything would go back to normal. He had to believe that. He couldn’t falter in his course of action now. Doubt ( _logic_ , a treacherous part of his mind whispered) would only drag him down, doom the both of them. He had to save Pitchiner. He had to.

Kozmotis reached the docking area and leapt aboard a small star-schooner, one that he could man independently. He shoved the thing that had been his brother against one rail, grabbed the wheel, and gunned it. Luck seemed to finally be smiling on him today; he’d managed to commandeer one of the faster vessels that had been brought along. If he did this right, he’d be able to lose pursuit in the asteroid belt they’d passed on the way here. Assuming he didn’t get stabbed in the back…

Kozmotis looked away from the direction he was headed in to glance uneasily at Pitchiner, or the thing that might possibly be Pitchiner. Maybe.

The shadowy figure hadn’t moved from its slumped position against one rail, and some kind of black, viscous substance seemed to be slowly seeping out of it. Kozmotis felt worry lance through him. How much punishment could it take? What if Pitchiner was already dead?

He hastily locked the wheel in place, left the thrusters and sails at maximum drive, and hurried over to crouch down near the thing. “Pitchiner?” He asked, and his heart dropped when there was no response. Fear trickled down his spine at the thought of it all having been for naught, at the thought of being left alone after all this.

Suddenly the creature inhaled sharply, its nostrils flaring. A dark hand shot out and curled around Kozmotis’ throat, talons digging into his flesh. The yellow eyes snapped open, fixing a burning, baleful gaze on the former general. Lips curled back to reveal black fangs and the thing  _hissed_.

Kozmotis choked and brought his arm up fast, knocking away the hand that had him in its grip. He jerked backwards, away from the creature. It let out an unholy snarl, but when it attempted to get to its feet, its limbs bucked underneath it and it fell back against the rail.

Kozmotis had no idea how long it would take the thing to recover, but considering how fast it had gone from quiescent to murderous, he didn’t think it would be wise to take any chances.

They had shadow-repellent bonds back when he and Pitchiner were rounding up the blasted things, they army still had to have some around here somewhere, surely. Five minutes worth of scrambling through supply lockers (and casting wary glances back at the thing and the pursuit that was tailing them) later, Kozmotis pulled out some rope that glimmered even through the dust that had settled on it. Not in the best condition, but it would do in a pinch. He needed to make sure he could focus on navigation. The pursuers didn’t seem to be closing the distance, but he’d never lose them if he kept letting the ship run on autopilot.

He approached the shadow thing cautiously and quickly threw the rope around it, cinching it tightly around its torso and arms and ignoring the snarled protests. The dangling end of the rope he threw over the crossbeam of the schooner’s mast. He’d seen the thing merge with the shadows during the fight, which could be a problem if that ability allowed it to escape or ambush him.

He’d see if it could do that when there weren’t any shadows that it could touch. A sharp yank pulled the creature up into the air, and Kozmotis tied off the rope, leaving the thing to dangle like some kind of macabre decoration.

Now he could focus on escape.


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on, come on!” Kozmotis pleaded to whatever powers might be listening, banking the schooner so sharply he had to cling to the steering wheel to prevent  being flung against the rail of the ship. Even so, the asteroid scraped along the side of the schooner with an earsplitting shriek of warping metal.  Then the ship was past the rock  with a shudder.  Kozmotis winced and hoped that nothing essential had been damaged in the collision. But that had been it, the last of the asteroids in the belt. If the rest of the army had managed to follow him through that, he honestly wasn’t sure how he could be able to evade capture for much longer.

He didn’t know this sector very well; he hadn’t been in this galaxy for centuries now. Stars only knew what sort of military outposts might have been established nearby, which troops might already be closing in on him and- No,  he had to be logical about this. Considering the alert level that he had sent out, any  reinforcements would have surely headed for the prison planet and the military had been downsized in peacetime. There would be no reason for troops to be this far out. He was heading away from where the empire’s colonization had spread. He couldn’t afford to worry about shadows ahead of him, the troops behind were enough of a threat.

Kozmotis shot a glance backwards in time to see one of the pursuing ships be broadsided by an asteroid with a sickening crunch. He winced again, simultaneously hoping that the crash hadn’t been bad enough to cause fatalities and that it had been serious enough to disable the ship and put them in need of rescue from another craft. He could use all the delay he could get. That looked like it had been the closest pursuer, though, so maybe-

A flurry of movement from  the deck of the crippled ship and a sudden booming sound was the only warning he got before a six-foot long harpoon was launched through the space between them, whistling through the air. Kozmotis let out a desperate curse and yanked the ship’s wheel to the right,  fighting the instinct to throw himself to the deck. If the ship was disabled, it was all over. He couldn’t afford that. The weapon tore a hole through one of the schooner’s solar sails before flying past the craft and into the abyss. Okay, not ideal, but if they were trying to kill them rather than pursue at this point, then they were running out of options. Kozmotis had the other sails still,  plenty of propulsion assuming he could get out of firing range…  

Behind him, another shot rang out. There wasn’t time to figure out where it was coming from. Kozmotis knew he needed to lose his pursuers, and he needed to lose them fast. Without a second thought, the Golden General sent the schooner into a dive, shooting straight down into the void of space. Yanking on the wheel, he sent the ship into a spin, glancing behind his shoulder just in time to see another missile shooting past, narrowly missing the ship. He also caught sight of Pitch, apparently fully conscious once more, as he was swinging wildly back and forth on his tether and cursing venomously. If this had been under any other condition, if Kozmotis couldn’t still see the shadows crawling over his brother’s skin, it almost would have been a humorous moment.

As it was, though, Kozmotis had little time for amusement.  He had to think of a planet or a moon or something that they could hole up on for a little bit, long enough for Koz to patch up the damage that had been done to the ship and to see… see if he could get through to Pitchiner.

No, he would get through to Pitchiner. He would. There were no other options now. He just needed time. Which meant that he couldn’t be wasting energy worrying about pointless things.

There was an outlier planet orbiting a dying star one sector over, he’d only been there once and there had been little of value on it. It wasn’t even on most star charts, the last time he was in the military. It would have to work for now, until Koz could refit the ship to get to the further reaches of the universe, out of the reach of the empire.

* * *

 

There had been a flurry of frantic but thankfully distracting activity as he landed the schooner and rushed to conceal the signs of their presence on the planet. No doubt such a high risk on the loose would lead to a mass scouting expedition sent out to  eliminate the threat. He’d just have to hope that his efforts would be enough and this little planet with its irregular orbit would be overlooked. Time, he needed more time, especially now that he was forced to unhitch Pitchiner from the mast and face the state that his brother was in.

He’d strapped the thing down as best he could, but given the way that it was struggling against the antique bonds he’d been forced to use, he didn’t know how long they would hold up. He’d have to devise a better holding strategy if he couldn’t get through to Pitchiner…

No, he would get through to him. He had to. There were no other options, not anymore. This was their last stand. He couldn’t afford to falter or fail now. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Pitchiner. Pitch. I know you’re in there. Talk to me, please,” Kozmotis pleaded, kneeling on the floor in front of the bound creature, spreading his hands beseechingly. “It’s okay now. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

The thing stilled, then an unsettling chuckle spilled out of its black-stained lips. “ _That’sss not what your fear says, Kozmotissss_ ,” it hissed, words formed by the same chorus of many dark voices speaking as one.

“Pitchiner?” Kozmotis repeated, trying to pick out Pitch’s voice from the dozens that spoke for the thing. Would it be better or worse if he was one of them?

“ _Pitchiner can’t come out and play right now,”_ the thing replied, the discordant voices picking up a sing-song tone.

“Stop it!”

“ _You don’t want him to come out anyway; he’s very upset. He’d only be begging for you to kill him, and you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to lose your brother…”_

“He’s not going to die. I’m going to find a way to eradicate every last one of you and he’ll be safe again,” Kozmotis growled, clenching his fists.

The thing giggled, dozens of shivering voices skittering  through the air and crawling over each other like a seething swarm of insects. “ _And how are you going to do that?”_ it asked, cocking its head to one side and fixing Kozmotis with glowing sulphurous eyes. “ _You have no resources, you’re on the run. The Golden Army will never stop hunting you, we should know. And even if you do manage to cure your dear twin, you’ll never be able to go back. High treason is funny that way, isn’t it?”_

“I’m not giving up. Never,” Kozmotis replied, implacable.

“ _No, no, you misunderstand…”_ the thing cooed.  _“We’re here to_ help. _You can go back home, see your little girl again, you just need to make sure the Golden Army doesn’t get in your way. Together, you and us, we’re unstoppable, remember?”_

“You’re  _not_  Pitchiner.”

“ _But we are. We are him, he is us, now. And we’re so much more powerful now, Koz. No one can stop us anymore. It’s freeing, Koz. If you had this kind of power at your disposal too, nothing could ever separate us again…”_

 “The other prison…” Kozmotis breathed, going still.

“ _Yessss. It would give everything perfect symmetry, Koz.  There’s no reason why Pitchiner should be alone in the dark… We would be together again. Forever.”_

“…No. I won’t betray the Golden Army, or my vows. Never,” Kozmotis replied, shaking his head, partially in refusal and partially to clear it from the unwelcome thoughts that were being stirred up.

The thing blinked at him and then glanced around the schooner. “ _I’m afraid that ship already sailed. Literally._ ”

Was it Pitchiner that was inspiring the creature’s attitude? That sounded almost like something he would say. “This was different. I didn’t- I’m not hurting anyone.”

“ _So when they come to kill us, will you not fight back? Will you lie on your back and die for them, like you lived?”_

Kozmotis clenched his teeth. “Self defense is different, and I… I won’t kill people.”

Another unsettling chuckle slipped out of the creature. “ _You’re a soldier. Killing people is what you DO.”_

“No. They- _You_  aren’t people.”

The thing shrugged. “ _Not by your estimation, at least. But we’re in the same boat now, Kozmotis. We may as well help each other.”_

Kozmotis clenched his hands hard enough that he could feel the bones creak. “No. I won’t ever do things your way.”

The thing hissed, eyes blazing. “ _Then you will die. You will die screaming. Everything you ever strived for will amount to **nothing**. And you will never see your brother again,”_  it snarled.

“You’re wrong. I will do this. I will evade the might of the army, I will free my brother, and I will exterminate every last one of you miserable parasites. Because we’re together now and, you said it, there’s nothing we can’t do,” Kozmotis stated, unwilling to let his resolve waver for even an instant.

“ _You can’t hold us forever. And he won’t stop us a second time.”_  The thing’s many voices  seethed with malice.

The general swallowed and inhaled slowly, trying to clear his mind from the darkness that the thing was clouding it with. He didn’t need to speak with it, he needed to speak with Pitchiner. He just had to figure out some way to bring him to the surface, to make him remember.

Kozmotis reached out to feel along the thing’s throat, searching for the locket that should still be hanging around Pitchiner’s neck, the one with the picture of Kozmotis and Seraphina within it. The creature’s flesh seemed to give under his hand a little, and he was left with the unsettling impression of it being composed of millions of tiny writhing creatures instead of one whole form. But his hands encountered no chain or pendant concealed beneath the shadows of the nightmare thing. Pitchiner would have never willingly parted with it, so it must have been lost  during the  battle, or when… when the door had been opened. He didn’t want to think what sort of portent that might be, that the one thing that was most precious to Pitchiner during his long vigil had been lost, forgotten, cast aside. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that the last traces of his brother were gone along with the locket.

Kozmotis took a deep breath and slipped his own locket from around his neck,  the twin to Pitchiner’s missing one. The only difference was that the second portrait was of Pitchiner, not of Kozmotis. He took a moment to glance longingly at the two happy faces found inside. That was why he was doing this, so that they could return to those days, eventually. “Pitchiner, look, do you remember this?” he asked, holding up the jewelry.

Glowing, hate-filled eyes met his and the creature bared its teeth with a hiss. Was that a good sign, or was he grasping at straws now?

“You lost yours, so I’ll lend you mine for now, alright? Later, we can go back and look for yours.” _When you’re fixed_. Kozmotis draped the locket over the thing’s head, letting the pendant fall against its chest. The creature shuddered and let out a keening noise.

“Pitchiner, please. I know you’re in there somewhere. Can you hear me?”

The monster snarled at him in a dozen different voices, none of them his brother’s.

Kozmotis bit his lip, trying to see his twin’s form in the roiling blackness that formed the creature’s body. The way his vision was blurring wasn’t making it easy. He growled in frustration and used the back of his hand to wipe the tears away. “…I need you, Pitchiner,” he whispered, his head dropping.

There was a sudden snapping noise and, for the first time in his life, Kozmotis’ reflexes failed him. He had been so consumed with grief and guilt and desperation that the realization that the bonds had been broken, that the creature was free, took a full second to dawn on him. By the time he raised his head, the monster was looming over him, seeming to sap all light from the room. There was no time for him to lunge for his sword, to try to fight it off. Kozmotis could only flinch as it reached forward.

A long-fingered hand cupped the side of his face, a thumb smoothing gently over his cheek. “Koz,” Pitchiner rasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be more of the series (hopefully in a timely manner), but this specific arc is done.

**Author's Note:**

> It was meant to be fun times! It was meant to be short Oreo Adventures in Space! Then Mira and Alys got a hold of it. Not only did it grow exponentially…but we may have thrown in a teensy bit of angst.
> 
> We hope you enjoyed~


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